


All My Eye

by QueenCandyness



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Multi, Other, READER IS GENDER NUETRAL, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCandyness/pseuds/QueenCandyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and McCree have known each other ever since you two paired up in Overwatch operations. Overwatch has soon disbanded ever since humanity's fear and hopelessness branched out about the global crisis of Omnics (robots). Some heroes still fought for justice while others such as yourself resorted into crimes mostly to survive. McCree, on the other hand, wanted to make up for his past sins and became a bounty hunter and fought only for what he believed in despite groups wanting to recruit him. News reached him of a new outlaw in the outskirts of New Mexico and he's determined to accomplish the task -- to catch you. [© 2016 | иєιgє]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Afterclaps

"McCree?"

"Ye'?"

"They said no."

A light chuckle echoed in the senile and withered hypertrain he's in. Other passengers in the same room paid no heed at the man and deemed him normal since it wasn't odd to see him journeying away inside multiple trains. A huff escaped his cracked lips as he settled down for another take of his cigar. McCree licked his lips as he let out a breath that can be mistaken as a wisp -- there are children on board and he didn't want them inhaling the smoke too much.

"Figures," he responded to the chief on board who is rather young for the job in hand.

"Do you want us to make another attempt in contacting the police? I mean, you saved us, it's the best we--"

"Save it. You're wasting your energy. I'm fine. If they think I'm an outlaw so be it. But I'll still continue doing what I believe is right whether those damn officers agree or not." McCree faltered the butt of the cigar to extinguish the fire and smoke before flicking it out the open window he sat next to.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they're blaming you for property damage and the dead body count that's uprising." A young lady spoke out from the back of the room, her voice shaky since she was rather new in seeing this McCree guy for the first time.

How brave, he thought.

"Figures," he repeated and pinched his nose in frustration. Only yesterday did the event happen where soldiers tried to hijack a train he occupied and he saved all of his folks. But now the adrenaline vanished and nothing new was happening as of today, which was rather odd since New Mexico always have outlaws crawling around the place.

Maybe he should rest today. Farmington provides the best hotels at cheap prices.

"Has anything been happening recently?" McCree asked the chief who was busy fiddling his own thumbs. The young man jolted with half-sleepy eyes and he shook his head.

"No, McCree. Do you want me to search up if there's any outlaws in Farmington?"

"Please do. I ain't just gonna nap all day," he agreed despite contradicting his previous thoughts of taking a break. He wanted to feel the nasty adrenaline rush, something he missed from the Overwatch operations he underwent.

Tipping his hat to cover his face, he closed his eyes. The rumbling and purrs of the train was familiar music to him. And so he heard the occasional drones zoom by without a care and the tortured hisses and screeches from robots getting beaten in public by gangs were a normal routine. As much as it sparked a certain twinge; he couldn't stop all of the gangs from beating them up. And as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he's not a big fan of the robots who are just trying to fit in. Nonetheless, he respected them.

He rested his bionic arm over his stomach and let the cold steel sink into his warm flesh. He nearly flinched at the frigidness.

"Sir--McCree. I found a couple from Las Vegas instead since Farmington has none if you wanna see. Two of them are gangs and one of them is an individual. They look a bit familiar now that I'm lookin'."

McCree emitted a small grunt as the chief's voice pierced the peacefulness in him. Maybe he should take an actual break instead of hunting down criminals. Fixing his cowboy hat and cloak, he hunched over to see the hologram displaying from his milky-white watch.

"Sorry. Lemme make it bigger for ya'." The chief expanded the image so McCree could rest his back. The first one was a gang of guys with different styled mohawks and black leather jackets with skull tattoos engraved on all of them. "El Odio" they dubbed themselves meaning "The Hatred". Their crimes mostly consisted of the old-fashion robbery and mostly beating up robots. Bounty is $6,000 which was cheap compared to some of the bounties McCree collected.

"Next."

Another gang. Their tattoos were influenced by Cinco de Mayo which only glowed in the dark to make them more threatening. Bounty is $30,000. Pass.

Now on to the individual outlaw. McCree almost jolted from his chair but his eyes did widen in surprise.

(Y/N) (L/N). Called out for petty food-stealing crimes, shutting down the city's lights, hacking, the mayor's computers, killed people in "self-defense", went on a shooting spree with another former Overwatch agent claiming that they were protecting the kids inside the store, and has robbed the banks from the city. Preferred to be brought back alive. Turn in to federal government or New Mexico's police station. Bounty is $50,000,000. Stop them.

McCree's lips curled into a smirk. He took in the picture's details. It was the same (s/c) skin, plump lips, shiny (h/c) hair that framed your face, and your confused eyes, as if questioning the photographer why they are considered an outlaw in the first place.

The chief observed his reactions carefully and raised a brow. "You're gonna go after (L/N), McCree? Aren't they one of the Overwatch agents before? Are you sure you wanna go after this one? They're dangerous--"

"I know that, son. That's why I'm goin' after 'em." McCree's relaxed voice instantly calmed the chief's nerves by a lot but he was still anxious. To have $50,000,000 is considered a miracle. But that also means a lot of bounty hunters are going to go after you as well. Then so be it, he's up for the challenge.

Smiling, he felt a more intense adrenaline rush course through his veins, exactly like the rush he felt in those past Overwatch missions. He's not going to take a break now.

"I'll make sure to catch 'em. Don't ya worry," he assured the chief before the young man stood and headed towards the conductor's room.

"Jesse," he asked as he watched the cowboy stand up as well, "do you want me to tell the conductor to make a stop at Las Vegas?"

"Nah, there's no need to. I'll find 'em myself." With his revolver buckled and his "BAMF (Badass motherfucker)" belt glinting in the light; he crashed through the window and leapt out of sight, making it the second window he broke on the same train. The first one was to get inside since no one would ever sell him a ticket to get in anyways.

"Damn it, Jesse! If you do catch (Y/N) (L/N) can you at least split the money to repair the windows!" The chief shouted at the bounty hunter, but he was in doubt that his words never reached his ears for Jesse McCree was already gone.


	2. Brush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get caught up in an impromptu argument with two former Overwatch agents and chaos ensues over your "trouble-making" schemes.

"Sorry ladies and gentlemen! Seems like this mall needs a bit more fuses to light up!"

The ringing of dreadful screams and explosions echoed throughout the high-security mall. Police drones tried to rush their way in to aim at their locked targets but the radius of the blast succumb them to smithereens. The scraps of metal fed to the assailant's amusement and they chuckled.

The humans are all still alive, maybe not intact. The explosion really hit home for the peaceful Omnics scurrying about with their human friends. Any Omnic in sight was destroyed and heavily damaged.

You pinched your nose and dug your back against the wall behind cover. If only you had seen the obvious faces of Junkrat and Roadhog roaming around the top floors -- you would've evacuated everyone. Man, were you unlucky. Earlier today you managed to escape the government's drones by a hair length and now you have to deal with two former Overwatch agents who most likely were hired by Talon or someone else to kill you.

"Mate, come out! I know you're in here!" Junkrat called out after the screams and sirens silenced with only the crying of the injured left to listen to. His silent companion -- Roadhog -- leaned in and muffled out words only Junkrat learned to understand.

"What do you mean you're the one who located 'em?"

He brushed it off and starting limping around with his bodyguard not too far behind. The first Omnic he saw, he went up to it and asked, "Do you know where the fine (mister/miss) (Y/N) is at?"

Twitching and beeping was his only response.

Bashing its head with his peg leg, he growled under his breath, "Stupid mongrel! Bloody wankers is what you all are!"

You cringed at his violent reaction against the robot and you held your breath in fear. You hated being hunt down like this: it made you feel vulnerable and weak. It never turned out like this.

Your only hope is to sneak by them and scamper your way off towards the exit. Your weapons couldn't provide you a silent escape. That or maybe wait for more police drones to arrive but you'll most likely get arrested with the two junkers.

Your area started to fill with the leftover smoke from the blast. Your face scrunched in pure regret, trying to hold your throat and not to make a sound.

Junkrat started to cause a ruckus again with a few more Omnics and then approached an injured man. The demolitionist crouched, causing the man to give a few wheezes and coughs due to his radiation and smoke-lingering hair.

"Excuse me mate, but do you happen to know where a (h/c) haired (gender) with high-tech armor or weapons roaming around here? Has (s/c) skin? Bright eyes?"

"N-no... sorry."

"Well, time to end your misery--"

You were about to jump out to prevent him from triggering his grenade launcher but an autumn-haired middle-age woman in a red dress near the man spoke up. "Leave my husband alone! I know the person you're talking about!"

Junkrat's lips curled into a victorious grin. "Where are they?"

"Will you leave us alone if I tell you?"

His grin faltered and sighed a quiet "Yes" to the woman. Then she pointed at a general direction where you happened to be taking cover. You didn't blame her no matter how much you wanted to right now.

You closed your eyes tightly and tried to maintain your breathing. Nowhere to go. There was no other cover besides this one and you couldn't make a run for it either. Tracer. If only she was here. She helped you save those kids before and promised to meet you again, why not now?

That's it.

You scrolled through your contacts in your watch and sent a message to Tracer along the lines with a needed rescue and your exact location.

"I'm in Winston's lab working on something with him. I'm disappearing again. Winston's trying to fix it. Sorry love but you got to hold on as long as you can."

You were about to respond back but felt chains embrace your throat and started to pull you out of cover. Forcing you to drop your weapon, you clawed at the chain as you were being dragged to Junkrat and Roadhog.

"Great! All in the day's work!" He nudged Roadhog while laughing as he held you up to his face, impelled to look straight in his eyes. "How can someone like you stir up so much trouble? Bloody hell you're worth more than both of us combined ever since they raised it up by five million! Keep it up and you're gonna be worse than McCree!" 

You never intended for a high bounty to be placed on you. The food-stealing you could understand and maybe hacking and shutting off the lights. It wasn't fair. Any Overwatch activity is deemed illegal but you still kept it up. The ban forced half of your team to become mercenaries who hunts down their former pals. Take this for example.

"A-at least I'm not a psychopath like you and your friend. I'm still fighting on for the good of this world."

You forced a kick in his crotch area much to you and his discomfort and he let you go. The chain loosening until you tore it off to finally breathe. Roadhog's reflexes weren't as fast as he tried to launch his hook to grab you but you went back to cover and armed yourself with your favored weapon -- ready to shoot your way out. 

"Out of the way or I'll shoot!" you warned them as you stood, your attention more focused on the dangerous Roadhog than Junkrat.

Gripping onto his grenade launcher he retorted, "Look mate, come with us and one else needs to get hurt! Not even those haywire buckets of bolts!"

Your face revealed a more angered expression as you were about to shoot your projectiles and he sighs at your reaction. "I prefer reasoning rather than violence but I guess if this is how it'll bloody go."

"Targets in sight."

Police drones started to flood the area: allowing the injured to flee. That's all that matters to you.

"Bombs away, wankers!"

An explosion caught you off guard and swept you off your feet. The remains of Junkrat's concussion mine scattered all around.

You attempted to crawl your way out of the torn apart mall but you hear Roadhog muffle, "Not on my watch." and pushed you backwards towards him with his retreating hook. You aimed right at his face but he pulled your weapon out of your hands for precaution. Struggling and pulling to get out of his strong grasp, you heard more sirens and drones enclosing the three of you.

Junkrat pushed his grenade launcher upwards and caused a gaping hole in the ceiling. "Let's get out of here. Work's done."

Roadhog held you in one arm as he initiated his grappling hook, letting Junkrat reside on his shoulder. As they were about to pull of their escape, one of the drones zapped Roadhog's arm, accidentally releasing you in the sea of drones as he went up.

"Damn it! You had one job!" You heard him scream from the top. "You won't get rid of me that easily!" Dropping off eight bombs, you heard him take flight with his friend, leaving you with six remaining police drones after the eight grenades exploded.

Your body is covered with ash and you snarled at the drones closing in on you. You started to become dizzy and you growled. Not again, you thought. They might as well capture you.

"It's high noon."

BANG.

All six drones went down and you heard loud footsteps approach you. You almost cried. "Mc-McCree?" you wheezed out. You saw his familiar hat and cigar along with his restful dark brown eyes. The smoke inhalation made him look blurry.

"Howdy."

"D-don't hurt me, please," you knew he became a bounty hunter, and his smug grin didn't help your situation.

You fainted as he grabbed hold of you.

McCree fixed his cigar's position before carrying you bridal style and swept away any ash or (h/c) locks in the way of your face. He huffed as he gazed at your pristine face.

"Don't worry sweetheart, not like I want to anyways."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brush - A skirmish, or fight.


	3. Cut and Run

There was something familiar about the darkness enveloping you. To you it is comfort from reality and acted as a temporary break.

Shaking, you shifted uncomfortably as your head throbbed. Man, _do luxuries hurt_.

Hesitantly, you groan as harsh artificial light burns your eyes, forming pricks of tears in the corner. You quickly shut them and rub your eyes as you rise and stretch. Looking down, you realize that your body is draped by an orange-brownish quilt. It's thin but still provides a source of comfort.

Leaning back, you feel the squishy texture of the mud-colored sofa. Ah, no wonder your back ached. But the thing that worries you the most is where are you and who applied bandages on your body.

_The explosions, right,_ you cringe.

You tried to stand up; resulting in a utterly embarrassing failure as you crash back on the couch ungracefully. Gazing down, you took in the details of the gauze wrapped around your legs along with the occasional bruises -- old and new -- from the jabbing arms of police drones. 

The room you occupied is petite -- the bed and bathroom only across from where you reside. A motel room. You were about to get up again but your heart started to pound viciously the moment you heard keys jingle outside. Someone else entered the home and the calm atmosphere shattered.

Pretending to be asleep, you buried your face into the arm of the sofa, nearly suffocating. You hear nostalgic click-clacks from the person's boots and you fear them -- knowing full well who's in here with you.

You listen as they drop down what sounds like bags on the coffee table and a cigar being faltered and put away for good. The smell was intoxicating. Funny how you should be used to it yet it's been years.

"How much longer you're gonna pretend to sleep?" he subtly enforces upon you his mood and you mentally sigh in annoyance. He didn't act the best if he's in a cranky mood.

"Yessir, I'm up," you rub your temples -- still infected by the headache.

"There we go," McCree faintly smiles and heads into the kitchen. "Cream or none at all?" he calls out and you nearly huff in shock as he brews up two coffee mugs -- both filled with leftover dark coffee.

You arch an eyebrow at his sudden change of behavior but nonetheless comply, "I thought you would know by now," you aren't a big fan of coffee, but you made an exception when McCree's makes it. You weren't experimental with coffee at all so you always stick with the flavor you chose.

He then proceeds to add an extra teaspoon of sugar and cream and hands it to you. You cautiously took it -- afraid for your fingers to make contact with his gloved ones. "I honestly didn't know, for all I know you could've changed during these past few years." McCree plumps himself next to you -- in the far corner of the couch -- yet you still felt your body naturally tense at his presence.

You remain unresponsive as the both of you silently sipped on your coffees; the silence is starting to make you uncomfortable.

"When are you going to turn me in," you demand, closing your eyes as you sip so you wouldn't have to deal with McCree's expressions. You listened carefully at his relaxed breathing and metallic fingers tapping at his chin -- obviously wanting a cigar to think this over.

"I don't know yet. Usually, I leave 'em hanging around the police station tied up but yours is a more serious case." McCree scratches his beard and hums, glancing at you.

"You know that it's not my fault. I was just trying to survive out here. I have no one to go back to -- no friends or family -- hell, not even a home. And this bounty tag over me is making it more difficult," you sigh, resting your head on the back of the sofa.

McCree observes you with half-lidded eyes despite drinking coffee just now, "(Y/N), darling, I know that you're smart but you've always been so reckless. You weren't even screamin' in pain when I found you laying on the floor with broken bones and scorch marks."

He slips his metallic hand and intertwines it with yours but you refuse to lock your fingers with his. Instead, you gaze longly at his hand and you try to pull away but he held a firm grip.

"You're right. I know I've always been reckless. And yet that part of me never changes," you agree and his poker face stitches to a frown.

"(Y/N), darling, don't take it the wrong way. It's not your fault. It wasn't a choice and I even told you. No need to be upset." McCree reassures and you close your eyes, letting the warmth of the coffee and his honey-laced voice allure you.

 

~

It was a mission from Overwatch. The two of you are paired together to steal hidden documents from Talon -- the both of you are young adults at the time. As usual, McCree was excited from the mission to prevail and eagerly woke you up, waving his Peacekeeper around like a toy. You groggily gave him the eye but he laughs it off and helps you up.

"(Y/N), darling, they're very dangerous. I don't want you to go out there in the open; stay close to me." Jesse equips his Western hat and armor, advising you of your first mission against Talon.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at your friend, "I know, and stop calling me "darling", I told you my name's just (Y/N)," you roam to the corner of your room where you have your golden coat hanger with all types of scarves. You picked out a (f/c) one for yourself and you glanced back at McCree, his neck exposed. You sigh as you pick out a red poncho from your hanger and tossed him the cloth. He grabs it and looks up confused.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"The weather forecast said it was gonna be cold today. You can't perform well if you're cold and you know it," you refer to his lifestyle in New Mexico -- always living in the heat with little to no experience with snow. He smiles and chuckles as he wraps poorly around his neck -- most of the poncho covering his back.

"I love it, thanks darling."

The mission proceeded smoothly and the both of you managed to get past the security guards in which you'll admit were quite a hassle. The two of you crawled through vents and made your way into the main room. In the center of the room levitates an enclosed briefcase with files jam-packed inside, a few papers were spilling. You nearly squeal in excitement but McCree places a hand on your back.

You reach out, nearly touching the briefcase but you automatically retracted when sirens started to blare wildly throughout the base. McCree's eyes widen as the door broke down and became flooded with Talon soldiers. The two of you tried to reach out for each other but the soldiers separated you both and knocked you out.

You woke up next to Jesse who calmly slept with his mouth agape. His quiet snores told you that he was dreaming and you shook him awake. His body jolted and desperately looked around.

"We gotta go," he locks onto your hand and hurries you to the exit.

"What about the papers?!" you yell out.

"Forget 'em papers, we need to leave!" McCree suddenly stops as one of the soldiers appear in front of him.

"You two aren't going anywhere. Especially you McCree, you caused enough trouble."

The soldier lunged at him and pins him. You averted your attention to the fight in shock.

"(Y/N), go! I'm gonna teach this dog some manners!" he gestures for you to leave and points upwards before reacting to the soldier's fight. The vents. 

Frightened, you broke the case and prepped yourself to enter the vent but you looked back, the soldier pinning his arm with his slicer. Jesse was screaming in pain and crying but despite his cries you entered the vent. Not looking back, you made your attempt to escape, too scared to save Jesse. Your friend. And the last things you heard was his flesh and bones tearing apart.

~

You sniff, not realizing the tears streaming down your cheeks. It was a stupid memory, and it was very stupid of you. "I-I'm sorry, if I just went back and--"

He cups your cheeks and forces you took look into his eyes, his chocolate orbs glistening, "Stop. We were young and we both made mistakes. I forgive you."

However, you kept on crying and he held you close, letting you bury your face in his chest. He strokes your (h/c) hair in an attempt to soothe you.

"I thought you became a bad man Jesse. I couldn't believe what the police said about you. They said you've done _awful things_." McCree hears your muffled voice and he huffs.

"I'm just like you darling, trying to survive here on my own. I've got no friends or family to go back to. Don't believe what they say about us." Jesse felt you pull back and he lets go.

He swipes away a leftover tear and holds your chin, squishing your cheeks in the progress, "Now, smile for me sweetheart."

You gave him the goofiest smile and he laughs, "That's my (Y/N)," he stands up and places both empty coffee mugs in the sink. "Say, darling, why don't you stay with me?" he suggests and you look curiously at him.

"You're not going to turn me in?"

"Not if you're gonna be a rascal to me, I won't," he jokes.

"M-maybe, I'll consider it."

He smiles to himself, he couldn't help but think -- he finally has you. You left without a trace and he managed to find you again. He can finally watch over his faithful friend.

So that night he slept blissfully and when he woke up the next morning to look for you.

 

You were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cut And Run - To be off, to be gone.


	4. Dry-gulch

It was a very problematic decision, but it has unraveled. Not like you had a particular need to leave his side.  
   
It was for the best, you remind yourself. Despite the web you were caught in currently, you manage to break a smile at the fact that McCree was safe. At least you assume so.  
   
You weren’t fond with the cramped motel room to begin with and the conversation from last night rewound in your head to the point you received a massive headache. You hurt him. You hurt someone dear to you. He casually reminded you on how you left him to die due to your instinctual fear and after that point in the talk, your mind went blank. You even forgot that he wanted you to stay with him.  
   
Yes, you found a way out, however not like this.  
   
You promptly decided to take your leave with a blank slate of mind. There was no destination in mind – only escaping.  
   
The night passed by quickly and the welcoming sun blanketed your skin these past days in Las Vegas. Your skin became increasingly tan.  
   
You didn’t bother to stay inside the shadows, either way there are too many gangs roaming in those alleys, so to you it was safer to embark on open road.  
   
People would pass by you, eyeing you closely.  
   
“Nothing to see here.” You would dismiss them but your high-tech armor and weaponry made you impossible to miss.  
   
You journeyed your way to the only train station in town and saw the glimmer of the hypertrain haul its way in. Your eyes lit up. New Mexico was no use to you if you’re already being hunted down by mercenaries or bad organizations like Junkrat and Talon.  
   
The person distributing the tickets to the rather medium-sized line of people smiled and nodded at each passenger. You could feel your boots pressure the mahogany floor and your nails dug deep in your sensitive palms. This isn’t fair.  
   
“(Ma’am/Sir)? Last train’s leavin’ the station. Where’s your ticket?” the man asked behind the counter, tipping his cowboy hat in greeting. You didn’t even realize that you situated yourself behind the line that had already vanished.  
   
The man was about to ask again but smacked his lips together when your weapon positioned itself in between his eyes. A menacing look is plastered on your face, giving the man an uncomfortable glare.  
   
“I don’t need a ticket to get my way in, sir,” you scowl. Then, surprisingly, the man drew out his revolver from a hidden view from his thighs. It wasn’t until you heard him click his gun did it drag you out of your shock. He growls at you before stating, “You outta be one of those outlaws, then. I’ve never seen your face ‘round here before.” He refers to your out-of-place attire.  
   
“I suppose you never read about me then. I’ll be taking my leave, sir. That is if you don’t want to get in any sort of mess.” This was more troublesome than you thought. Your threatening look was then replaced by surprise and fear when you heard a siren sound off and the doors of the last hypertrain were rapidly closing. Forgetting about the intimidating man, you lunge yourself at the doors, barely being able to bust through.  
   
Your mind went into an erratic state. Your lunge at the doors were impulsive and completely caught the ticket agent off guard. He was fidgeting with his revolver and possibly his only thought was, “I’m gonna get fired for this.”  
   
The bystanders at the scene observed your escape with eyes wide as plates. A mother of two young kids wrapped her arms protectively around her son and daughter in distraught. She turned them around a corner and covered their ears when the first bullet shot, and then another.  
   
“We have to get outta here. You two were already in a lot of trouble before.” The mother demanded and her daughter pouted.  
   
“But I really wanted to see Cottonwood! I heard they have stunning views from inside the train! And (Y/N)! They’re so cool!” the teen daughter exclaimed.  
   
“Amelia, there’s a gun fight between an outlaw and—“  
   
“Hey, (Y/N)! Over here!” her son waved happily, trying to get your attention but failed as he felt his mother’s iron grip drag him out of view.  
   
“James, what were you doing? You’re not supposed to do that!” the mother scolded as he laughed carelessly.  
   
“That’s an Overwatch agent! I told you about (Y/N) and Tracer! They saved us at the store! They saved us, ma! Aren’t you happy?!” James jumps excitedly, his fists curled up and his eyes shut tight as if sown. His grin spreads from ear to ear and his face became gradually scarlet. He confronted his hero again.  
   
The reality shattered as the mother grabbed her children by the ears before leading them away from the train station. “I had enough of your locura (craziness). Overwatch doesn’t exist anymore.”  
   
Ignoring her, James’s grin grew from a wild thought of his, “I wanna be a hero when I grow up, ma! I wanna be just like (Y/N)!” he laughs, trying to catch up to his mother as fast as his prosthetic legs could carry him. “They’re back!”  
   
The mother growled under her breath, clearly her patience was getting thin from annoyance, “Shut it and hurry up.”  
   
~  
   
It took a while before everything could settle inside the hypertrain. The bullet that chimed inside your shoulder was a direct hit and one of the nicer elders in the train offered to patch it up. When asked why she would offer to help an outlaw, she simply stated that she’s a doctor. She was supposed to help anyone no matter what.  
   
“Call me Ana. I’m here to help,” she manages to say despite the outfit that covers most of her body.  
   
And the second bullet? It was from you. You shot directly at the man’s phone before he could contact the authorities. You shook your head and heaved out an exaggerated sigh before pinching your nose.  
   
The chief on board gave you an exhausted look. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the train’s AI intercom, “Now arriving at Cottonwood Gulch.”  
   
The sudden announcement didn’t deter anyone, in fact, everyone still remained silent except the kids whom shuffled in uncomfortable positions. The sweat on their foreheads were streaming down in a gradual manner. No one dared to move, no one dared to breathe, and no one dared to mention you.  
   
Your watch buzzed off for the fifth time and you finally turned it off – not bothering to look. If Jesse somehow found your number, you didn’t want to bring yourself to look at his face. You bit your lip anxiously, your thoughts got stuck. You felt cornered despite the fact that there weren’t that many people on board. Ana, a mother and her son, two other elders and a family of four. Not counting the chief on board and conductor.  
   
A wave of exhaustion suddenly overflowed you all at once. Ana peeked over since she was sitting behind you and – ironically – asked if you were tired.  
   
“I can practically see it from miles away. Shoulders slumped, bad posture, greasy hair, burn marks and gauze. I’m guessing you were near explosives.” Ana describes your condition in perfect details and that struck a nerve. Have you really been through so much?  
   
“I’m fine, Ana.”  
   
“I don’t mind having to waste more needles.” She states in an unwavering tone that it almost made you shudder. She wanted to help that bad? For someone like you?  
   
“I don’t want you to have any severe side effects. Do you hear?” Her urgency was noted, but you were unable to notice that she was already filling up her needles.  
   
“What?” you unintentionally asked, feeling all of a sudden light-headed. Your vision started to become blurry, but you were unsure if it was a side effect or your tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. You felt restless.  
   
“This is the final shot.” You heard Ana as she gripped your arm harshly, pulling you to her. Then, the needle injects itself inside your vein and you gasp. All eyes were on you now.  
   
“S-stop!” Before she could inject anymore of the purple liquid, your free hand locked onto your weapon that you hid from her sight and bashed it against her head. The needle flung itself across the room, violently tearing the connection between it and your vein. Ana, however, laid on the still floor, covering her head with her arms. You hear her hiss in pain as everyone else stared at you in utter shock.  
   
The train was unmoving and the faint sounds of helicopters loomed over the hypertrain. Your vision felt like a switch, it kept turning itself on and off. You finally stood straight, trying not to let your exhaustion make you vulnerable.  
   
“Freeze, don’t move.”  
   
Talon.  
   
Talon soldiers crept their way inside the hypertrain, one of them shooting the conductor before continuing. It stung your heart.  
   
You stood protectively in front the shocked passengers and gripped your weapon firmly. “If you’re here for me – which I’m pretty sure you are – at least don’t involve the other people in this. Let’s settle it outside.” You propose and you can hear one of them chortle.  
   
“And you assume that we’re that obedient?” An uncomfortable silence fell upon you and you felt your face heat up anxiously. These are dangerous people that wouldn’t mind to kill anyone, but they are mission-oriented.  
   
The frigid barrel of the gun pressed itself on the back of your neck, forcing you to shiver and form goosebumps. The safety was off.  
   
“Follow him.”  
   
Ana. She sounds familiar. But whatever memory you had with her wasn’t like this.  
   
You took a step forward, your thoughts clouded and disturbed because of the pestering helicopter fans outside. Eventually you reached the entrance/exit of the hypertrain and another Talon soldier stood there. The gun buries itself into the nape of your neck.  
   
“Hand over your weapon to him.”  
   
Your fingers traced over your holstered weapon in a fast manner.  
   
“Slowly!”  
   
Your stomach churned and you let out an anxious sigh. Halfway through giving up your weapon, you twisted your body around for the second time to attack. Ana jerks in surprise despite her previous tough demeanor and accidentally shoots the soldier behind you, tumbling to the ground.  
   
A second gunshot rang and then another, both bullets piercing through your weapon, obliterating it in the process. You stood paralyzed as the scraps fell through your fingers. A jolt of pain traveled down your spine as your body was slammed to the nearest wall of the train. Sturdy handcuffs enveloped your wrists. A distinct smell fills inside your nose. Blood. But that wasn’t the strongest one. Junkrat was behind you.  
   
Your mind went dizzy, barely hearing the soldiers' suppressed gunshots and panicked screams. You're a goddamn failure.  
   
“Leave no witnesses! Take (Y/N) out!” Ana orders frantically with a scornful face.  
   
Junkrat turns to face her with a puzzled expression, “Ain’t gonna take them with us?”  
   
Ana shakes her head, “I’ve changed my mind. That idiot is reckless.”  
   
“We can just train th—“  
   
“No! I told you that we don’t have time to babysit! I’ll finish them off!”  
   
You weren’t allowed to turn around but when you did, you felt a grenade explode directly on your face. The chemical acid seeped through your burning eyelids, your face is a potholed red -- rash. Your eyes sizzled and you weren’t sure if they were evaporating. You covered your face with your hands, allowing darkness to shroud in as a bullet shot at your appendix. Crying and pained screaming was the only thing you could emit. Weak.  
   
“Let--- --- bleed----“ you felt your hearing escape you. The sound of rapid lasers. It aches your ears.  
   
“Oi, over here!” A girl showed up for a second then quickly vanished. Ana scans the room and the soldiers prepared for another round of gunfire. One of the soldiers shot at the girl but nothing came out. Jammed.  
   
A bullet pierces through the Talon soldier’s brain and he ungracefully falls to the floor. Deadeye.  
   
“Show yourself. I already dealt with enough trouble as it is.” Ana’s unwavering voice spoke with confidence. No one came.  
   
“Ach--!” Another soldier fell to the ground. The girl appeared in front of their eyes.  
   
“Cheers.” Suddenly everyone inside the train lays dead or injured with the exception of Ana.  
   
“Lena? This isn’t funny.” Ana scolds the British girl. She only faintly smiles before Ana was strangled by a bionic hand. The owner has a deeps scowl adorning his face, his eyes kept burning more and more while looking at the undercover agent. He seemed to have waken up in the wrong foot of the bed this morning.  
   
“Lemme just get straight to the point. What did you do to (Y/N)?” McCree asks in a demanding tone.  
   
“Oi, Jesse! They’re over here!” Tracer interjects and crouches next to your body. “(Y/N)’s bleeding!”  
   
At the mention of that, McCree was strangling Ana to the point where her face turned blue. He couldn't feel Ana clawing desperately with her useless gloved hands.  
   
"D-don't-- you're making it worse for yourself--" she barely rasps out in an attempt to escape.  
   
“You can just slide, miss.*” He places the barrel of his Peacekeeper on her forehead and clicked. Ana stopped choking and laid limp.  
   
Tracer held you close to her chest, making sure the leftover gauze she found inside Ana's kit are secure. She wipes the surrounding blood off with her napkin that was shoved inside her pockets long ago given by her dear friend Winston. She stares at your face, seeing how you were still trying to hold on to the branch of life. Realization crashed against her mind, one of her stained gloved hands covering her agape mouth. "(Y/N)! Dear lord, (Y/N)! I'm so sorry!"  
   
Tears streamed down from her eyes as she let out strangled sobs, her hand caressing your soft cheek. "Don't die on me now, love. You're a lot stronger than this."  
   
McCree crouches to your position, his eyes softened. Tracer handed you over to him. Your warmth embraced him, making him hold onto you tighter.  
   
“Lena, I need you to drive. Hurry.” his hoarse voice finally spoke.  
   
Tracer calls out from the front of the train, “Got it. I'm calling Veda now."  
   
It was silent for a few minutes before she yells out once again, "and McCree? Tell me if (Y/N) says anything. Please."  
   
However, McCree didn’t respond, instead he was raking his fingers through your silky (h/c) mass. His hand is matted with your leftover blood. Then, he starts to race your cheeks and jawline, trying to soothe you. An unknown tear fled his eye. “Shit.”  
   
Your eyes started to flutter once more, “McCree?” you call out weakly and he stares at you wide-eyed, bringing your hand on his cheek.  
   
“(Y/N)?” he questions back, “are you okay?”  
   
“Heh, I feel like shit.”  
   
“I reckon.”  
   
He felt your body in his arms tense as you look around on both of your sides until you stopped to look at his face. “Jesse, can you bring your face closer, please?”  
   
McCree complies without question, the ghost feeling of his lips over yours and he nearly stopped breathing. His beard lightly tickles your neck and the tips of your noses are lightly brushing. It took all his might not to bring himself any closer. You place a hand on his sun-kissed cheek and stroked it.  
   
“I’m so sorry, Jesse. For everything.” you pause. “You’re right, I am reckless.”  
   
“We ain’t discussing this now. That’s not the problem.”

Your fingers found themselves on the back of his head, now stroking his chocolate-colored hair. “No, it is.”  
   
“You aren’t even lookin’ at me straight in the eyes. Look at me, (Y/N), please.” McCree asks but instead, you squinted for a few seconds before looking away, your breathing getting more troubled.  
   
“I bet you look very handsome, Jesse, like you always do.”  
   
“Don’t say that. We can fix you, I swear--” his voice cracked and he stopped to realize that you fell unconscious again.  
   
He buries his face in the crook of your neck and cracked a sob -- only to release many more tears. Reckless. His words actually clung onto you. Did those words did this to you? Is that why?  
   
“You say that it’s your fault when it’s mine.” he confesses, stroking your hair. The train moved even faster than before, the destination is near. “Now, hold on for me.”  
 

**Drygulch - an ambush in a gulch, usually with the intent of killing  
*you can slide - go to hell**


	5. Chapter 5: Eventaute

You felt genuine comfort in the darkness around you. You embraced it. It was finally quiet, no more police sirens, shouts, or adrenaline. You were finally alone, and you loved it. The ruckus has come to a stop, but the time spent in this darkness was unknown. You would like to stay here in this paradise _forever_.  
   
As much as you wanted to, life does not work that way. Life never works the way you want it to, unless it got tired or thought that maybe you deserved something better.  
   
Fluorescent lights cast upon your face, until it was harshly put away. You were glad because your eyes was starting to react badly to it.  
   
The light grew dimmer and dimmer, and then there was no more light. The faint sound of equipment being put away and the curtains closing confused you. Metallic utensils clinked against one another as they strolled and the squeaky wheels echoed in your sensitive ears. Confusion occupied your mind, no other thought would come in.  
   
“Do not open your eyes just yet.” A harmonious voice instructed, noting your scrunched face. “Listen to what I have to say, is that understood?”  
   
You had no idea what was happening, but you obliged in the best way possible. A deep hum stirred in your dry throat and the person seemed to comprehend it. Your communication was limited.  
   
The sounds of various holograms whirred, being brought to life. You heard the guy scoff, switching through different holograms. “Talon. I have to applaud them for their technological advancements.”  
   
A headache throbbed severely and you released a small groan at the sudden pain. You went to press your fingers against it, but your hands felt restrained along with your feet. Panic started to fleet in your heart.  
   
“Headache? Hmph.” he reacts and you heard him pour liquid in a glass. “Here, drink this. It should nullify it.”  
   
“W-who--”  
   
“Not yet. I told you to listen to me. Drink it.”  
   
You drank it entirely without thinking, barely pausing to take a breath. You were too dehydrated.  
   
“I know you are confused, is that correct? Tap once for yes and two for no.”  
   
You tapped once.  
   
“About where you are or just confused about everything?”  
   
You paused. You thought. You tapped twice for the second option.  
   
“Okay, that is all I need to know.” you didn’t hear him jot down notes on a computer as doctors would, if he even was one. “I am Vedaciego. Call me V or Veda, I do not mind. Also, do not freak out with what I am about to tell you.”  
   
You raised an eyebrow, all drowsiness now seeped through, being replaced with curiosity. You tapped once to signal for him to continue.  
   
“I saved your life, luckily enough. If your friends did not make it so soon, perhaps you would be dead. I removed the bullet, but you were still losing a lot of blood. Tracer happened to have the same blood-type as you so you can also thank her for that.”  
   
You didn’t get how you were exactly supposed to freak out about that. Veda and Tracer just saved your life. Wait. Tracer. When did she even show up?  
   
“However, I am only a therapist and combat vet. I can only do so much. So I could not save your eyesight. I made you blind.”  
   
Your eyes shot up instinctively at his confession, meeting with the same darkness that plagued you.  
   
 _What?_  
   
Your nullified headache pounded and you felt dizzy at the same time, but your eyes still awakened to darkness. This isn’t paradise.  
   
“I call that luck.”  
   
“Luck? Luck!? You turned me into a blind person! How the fuck is that lucky?! Now I can’t do anything!” you cried out. Why would he make your vision even worse?  
   
“You will get used to it. Who said blind people cannot do anything? Just because you are blind does not mean you are restricted from everything.”  
   
“I can’t see. I need to see the people around me, I can’t imagine being blind for the rest of my life! I can’t use my weapon at all!” Your weapon. It was destroyed. Shit.  
   
“I am blind, and do you hear me complaining? And I am a surgeon.” he shuts down your whining. “I get it -- you are scared and whatnot. Truth is, whoever threw that grenade at you missed their shot. It contained propanol. It is a flammable liquid that was already heated and it is a colorless liquid, but I am afraid that they might have thrown a vaporized one. Basically, it burned your eyes and irritated your throat. If that grenade actually spouted at your eyes, heh.” Veda stopped his explanation and paced around the room. “Making you even blinder was the better choice, and it would have happened either way. It is not easy to fix something that’s unrepairable. I swept away as much of the propanol as I could.”  
   
A massive silence fell upon the both of you as you let the information sink in, at times repeating some words.  
   
Making you blinder was the better choice, you rethought it. It’s not easy to fix something that’s unrepairable. The damage was already done, and you had Ana to blame.  
   
You ended up releasing a compressed sigh, feeling everything leave within that. The stress, the injuries, the emotions, all in one sigh.  
   
“Is-- There’s no way to, I don’t know, unblind me?”  
   
You practically heard him tense at your question. “I do not know. You need to ask Dr. Ziegler; she is way more advanced than I am. I heard she requested to replace Miss Amari’s eye that had been shot but she refused. So maybe she can fix yours. I can not. I just happened to be close by when Tracer called, so this is the best I can muster.”  
   
You heard a bell ring and you nearly missed Veda’s huff. “Now if you will excuse me, I have to go attend my other patient. You were not the only victim.”  
   
His footsteps went farther away from you as he opened a door and closed it, unable to hear as much anymore. The only sound accompanying you was your heart monitor and various other contraptions beeping. You were alone.  
   
Others, you bit your lip. How were there others involved in the incident? Your thought process was altered by a clicking sound, but you dismissed it as one of your symptoms.  
   
Well, there’s Tracer, so that means--  
   
Before you can even mention the name in your head, you felt warm arms envelop your torso, lifting you closer to the person’s chest. Your flimsy arms dangled at the sides of the bed as you felt the familiar beard tickle your cold skin. His nose was buried in the crook of your neck and you let yourself shiver and blush under his warmth.  
   
“Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

Are _you_ alright?  
   
“(Y/N)?” he repeats your name and you blink slowly, your eyes felt sunken.  
   
“I still can’t see anything.” Tears pricked your eyes and you didn’t dare attempt to wipe them away. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”  
   
You felt McCree tense at those words, and the grip on your hands tightened to the point where you swore it was red.  
   
“Don’t worry about it, darlin’. You’re here now, that’s what matters.” McCree avoided the question and you felt your frustration build up.  
   
“You knew about the things I’ve done. You were even willing to turn me in because of the money! You’re a bounty hunter for god’s sake, why didn’t I even realize this!” you snarl and raked your fingers through your greasy hair in frustration.  
   
McCree’s thin lips etched into a frown at your behavior, letting your words sink in, “So what you’re telling me is… you want to give up. Is that what you want?”  
   
“I might as well. I can’t be a freedom fighter if I can’t see what I’m fighting for.”  
   
There was a moment of silence and you focused on his breathing pattern: steady. “(Y/N)... I’m not letting you do that. You’ve been goin’ on around committing crimes, saving people in the process even. You’ve been roaming around confused, I even offered that you should stay with me but I’ve never gotten a clear answer, so I’m gonna ask again: do you want to stay with me?”  
   
Now it was your turn to be silent. You bit your dried lips, inflicting a fresh cut from the pressure. “Why do you want me to stay so bad? You even told me yourself that I’m reckless. I left because of that part of me. I’ve nearly been caught so many times, and the last time you saved me by a hair strand, those bombs and police drones,” you sharply inhale before continuing,  “If I stay with you I might get us both executed, and I promised myself that you won’t be in any danger after I left you behind like that.”  
   
McCree doesn’t respond, instead he traces his fingers over the scorch marks and past bruises and cuts you received after the shutdown of Overwatch. “(Y/N)...” his voice draws out, “please, stay with me. You can’t keep going like this. You left me so I won’t be in any danger but you never thought about yourself. You always put others before you and I see why Overwatch appreciates that--” you cringe at the name, “but there are times when you can be a little selfish. It’s like having the door open to someone but then another one comes and it continues but you never enter. What I’m trying to say darlin’: think about yourself. You don’t even realize how much you matter to everyone else.”  
   
He raked his metallic fingers through your greasy hair, “If you’re thinkin’ that what you did back there when we were young was selfish -- it was -- but it was the right choice. Otherwise, we both wouldn’t have made it out.”  
   
Your breath hitched, feeling tears drip on your face; he was crying.  
   
“Oi, mate! Let go of my damn pegleg ya mongrel!”  
   
“I did not see it, apologies.”  
   
“What are ya’? Blind?! You--”  
   
“Actually, you are not wrong. Now close your mouth before you catch seven different diseases all at once.”  
   
“I can’t believe a bot has to-- ACK!”  
   
Junkrat’s voice gagged as a loud instrument snapped. The atmosphere was quiet and you heard Veda hum in relief.  
   
“Heh, I ain’t too sure about these Omnics, but for this I’ll make an exception.”  
   
You mumbled a question, but it was too low for McCree to hear, “What was that darlin’?”  
   
“Why is Junkrat here?” your voice stuttered, letting the memories of the time at the mall flood back. “If he’s here…” you felt your eyes pop out, “then where’s hog?” Your heart beat frantically as you tried to balance yourself on the bed.  
   
McCree pressured you back down, “Calm down, that hog ain’t here. Besides, if he was here, Lena would have given me a sign.”  
   
Tracer.  
   
“Where is she?” you heart paced in a relaxing tune, finally moving your thoughts to something else.  
   
“She’s out lookin’ after our rental car. We can’t stay here for long.”  
   
You nodded, understanding the situation.  
   
You heard Veda’s footsteps approach and open the door, rapidly closing it before Junkrat can question anything. His robotic part clinked in unison as he stopped and gazed at the both of you. “How are you?”

You flashed a faint smile, “Good, already getting accustomed.”  
   
He laughs, “Think of it as sleepwalking, but with your eyes open. It is not the best explanation, but it is all I can say.” he then appears next you, taking a hold of your free hand that McCree hasn’t taken. “Jesse.”  
   
The cowboy perks up, alerted. “Yessir?”  
   
“Where are you planning to go now? West?”  
   
Tension filled the room, “They called all of us; Lena and I thought about it and we decided to go.”  
   
What were they talking about?  
   
“I suppose that decision took a while, after all, it is not a light one.”  
   
“Are you going?”  
   
“No, I have been through enough. It is surprisingly calm here, and I need to rest. It is not that I am afraid that something will happen to me again, I just need to lay low.” Veda explains in vague details, pausing. “I suppose you need to leave now? They are waiting.”  
   
“Are you alright handling that crazy horse in the other room?”  
   
“Jesse, I have surprisingly dealt with worse, I am dealing with a toddler right now.” he pushes McCree aside to help you out of the contraptions, at the same time telling McCree what he should and should not do, giving him medications for you in the process.  
   
At the exit, Veda watched McCree and Tracer help you inside the rental car. “Jesse,” the cowboy turns back, “see you later, I suppose?” You felt McCree tip his hat, replying with friendly banter, “I suppose, I owe you one.”  
   
Veda huffed, crossing his arms, “You do not owe me anything, Jesse. Goodbye now.”  
   
“Thank ya, doc. Happy trails.”  
   
 **~**  
   
The ride was mostly calm and silent for the first few minutes. Tracer’s arms were wrapped around your form, careful not to apply pressure to wounds or burns. You couldn’t contain your smile; it was warm and friendly, no gunfire, just peace.  
   
“I really hope V’s okay on his own; Junk’s a real pain in the butt.” Tracer expresses, feeling her mood go down with guilt, then suddenly spikes up with positivity, “I’m sure he is! This isn’t new for him, ha.”  
   
McCree hums in agreement in the driver’s seat, “I’m glad he was nearby when we needed him.”  
   
It was a brief silence, and then you decided to say what was on your mind, “So… he’s an Omnic?”  
   
“Yeah, he travelled around Africa and Europe a lot, during one of his travels is when I met him.” Tracer fills in, “It surprised me, knowing that a blind Omnic surgeon can do just as good as any surgeon could, maybe even better!” she laughs in glee, releasing you from her grasp. Your ears tingled a bit from the increased volume of everything around you.  
   
“D-did something happen that made him go--”  
   
“Nonsense, love! He was born that way; I didn’t even know he was blind until he told me!”  
   
“Oh…” you trailed out, lips pursed with blank thoughts.  
   
Tracer noticed your change of mood and tried to pry on your worries, “(Y/N), love, something the matter?” she asked with an oblivious tone, despite having an idea of what was wrong.  
   
“Best they recover now, (Y/N) just got out of a surgery.” McCree, to your wishes, shut Tracer up and she pouted, a simple “fine” leaving her lips.  
   
This only lasted for a while, which you should have known since Tracer isn’t the one to keep calm, “(Y/N)! Remember that time at the store together? Where we sent those criminals straight to jail? The look on their faces when they thought wrong about us and we took out our guns!”  
   
Your memories flooded back, and then you saw color. You imagined yourself in ragged clothing, a very outlandish style, and a hidden gun between your thighs. You were visiting the isolated store to see what’s of interest so you can plan out a scheme. Food was lacking back at your shelter, water was too. That’s when you met Tracer in the same store, her back turned against you, wearing casual clothing for the first time. She was engaged in a conversation with the cashier.  
   
Suddenly, you heard the rough voices of three scrawny males enter the store, with the typical black masks and clothing, shaking with guns already drawn out. “Put your hands where I can see them!”  
   
Everyone obliged, even you and Tracer who kept an eye on them. However, you felt her stare burn onto your back: she knew.  
   
The criminals were roaming around the mostly empty store for a while until they encountered a small kid, no older than eight, shaking in the corner. “Aw, what’s wrong niño? ¿Dónde están tus padres? (Where are your parents?)”  
   
The kid burst into tears, feeling too intimidated, “I-I don’t know where my mama is!” he starts to hiccup and sob, curling himself further into a ball.  
   
“H-hey, watch it, you’re scaring the kid--!” An old man stood up but the barrel of a gun was shoved into his neck, Spanish curses lingering from the criminal.  
   
The other two forced the kid to look at them as one holds the boy and turns him upside down. Shaking him, loose coins and valuable possessions fell out. The boy cried even harder.  
   
You look back to see if the cashier contacted the police -- which would result in your end as well if they see you -- but the criminal was holding the gun towards his head. The cashier looked worried yet at the same time relieved. There was a smug smirk on his face -- he did it.  
   
There was something missing from the picture, you soon realized. “Aha! Gotcha!” Tracer’s body leaped over one of the criminals, performing a chokehold. The other one, without you realizing, was already attacked from behind and nearly tipped over.  
   
The criminal by the cashier grasped onto the collar of a little girl, who yelped. Tracer looked back in shock, forgetting about his presence.  
   
“You don’t want me to blow her brains out, do you?!” he snarls.  
   
“And you don’t want me to blow out yours, right?” The criminal turned around, catching himself off-guard and that’s when you struck. His gun collapsed onto the floor and his body laid there unconscious. You gazed at Tracer, who also stared at you back. Faint sirens were blaring outside. The both of you nodded with hands on your holsters, knowing exactly what to do.  
   
You blinked, your memories slipping away, knowing full well how the aftermath went. A huff escaped your cracked lips and you smiled. “Yeah, we showed them a thing or two.”  
   
Tracer giggled, hearing her click something on her watch. “Ah…” she clicked her tongue.  
   
“Hm? What is it?” McCree questioned.  
   
“The news is just buzzing about what happened in the train.”  
   
“That kind of stuff ain’t gonna happen anymore, got it? Best just ignore ‘em, I’ve learned to do that.”  
   
Another heavy silence fell, and you were swayed on how calm the ride was. Every minute you felt as if the car would tilt over, or Talon would come back, or random gunfire would occur. But no, none of that. You felt the gentle breeze kiss your cheeks, signaling that the window was open the entire time. You loved this feeling, a break, but you knew this lifestyle wasn’t meant for you.  
   
“McCree, where are we going?” No response. “Did you hear me?”  
   
“I hear ya.” he responds with nothing much added. “We’re here.”  
   
The car stops and the both of them helped you out of the car, Tracer mostly helping you two by leading the way. You almost panicked, this felt very strange. Tracer was over-excited and you couldn’t tell what McCree was feeling.  
   
“It’s nice to see you again, old pal! How’s it hanging?” Tracer blinked past you and into someone’s arms. You felt their huge presence and your heart started beating faster.  
   
“I haven’t seen you for a day, have you missed me so much? And your chronal accelerator is working just fine, am I correct?”  
   
“Yep, I can always put my trust in you, Winston.”  
   
Winston?  
   
“(Y/N)! How have you been?” Furry arms enveloped your form and you found yourself pressed against armor, making you slightly uncomfortable.  
   
“I-I, it’s good to see you too, Winston.” This was enough to satisfy him since he dropped you nearly too soon.  
   
“Hey Winston, we have a slight problem here. (Y/N)’s--”  
   
“Yes, I know. Tracer sent me a message when you both were waiting outside.”  
   
You felt McCree gaze at Tracer, whom only lightly giggled.  
   
The mood was shattered by the loud sound of heels clicking against the floor. You can already tell who it is. “Mercy?”  
   
“Impressive, you can already tell who I am. I assume these heels make myself very obvious.”  
   
Mercy stood in front of you, her taller frame hovering over yours. You breathed in the various pungent scents from her clothes: perfume and sterility. She held no staff in her hand, but you can tell she was in uniform.  
   
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Where are we?” you greeted and asked. A spark ignited in your head, giving you a hint where you might be.  
   
“(Y/N), you’re currently standing at that entrance of Gibraltar. I called everyone through their watches; I know that I’ve called you multiple times.” Winston huffs before continuing, “I want to bring back Overwatch.”  
   
Your face paled, wanting to reason that it was illegal to do that, but you reflected back upon what you had done and closed your mouth. Instead, you turned to McCree. “Wh-why did you bring me here? I didn’t expect you to come here out of all places.”  
   
McCree kept silent. Suddenly, you felt him gently stroke your fingers, holding them with his warm, gloved hand. Your nostrils overflown with the scent of smoke from -- presumably -- his cigar. Stroking your knuckles, he states, “It’s a place to start over. I know you’re probably mad at me… but I find this the best place to make up for what we’ve done wrong.”  
   
You bit your lip at his reason: what ever happened to the free and vigilante McCree? You didn’t notice yourself saying those words aloud and McCree chuckles.  
   
“I consider the time of me fetching criminals rather boring. I was plannin’ to take a break, but then I found you. Winston contacted me before I went looking for you the second time and he told me about it. I told him I would think about it, and I thought to myself, I need to feel that rush again. I enjoy going through the danger; it gives me a sense of purpose.” he stops to take a long drag of his cigar, “Now, (Y/N), darlin’, I’ll ask you one more time: do you want to stay with me?”  
   
You felt yourself tense, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead from the surrounding body heat and current situation. _I don’t have to run anymore_ , you thought, _and I can stay with friends that I’ve known for such a long time_. The problem is: you didn’t want to hurt them again.  
   
You smiled. You’ve hurt one of them, and yet, he made the best out of it. He was strong enough to live with a major mistake that you’ve committed and made it useful. You can learn from the mistakes you’ve done; you don’t have to be afraid anymore.  
   
“A-are you crying?!” Winston pointed out and you blinked, feeling the tear rolling down your cheek before it was wiped away.  
   
“Don’t cry darlin’, I know how hard it I--”  
   
“I’ll stay.”  
   
Not a moment of silence passed before you felt Tracer bounce onto you, hugging you from behind. She was laughing. “Yay! We get (Y/N) back!” she yelled happily, embracing you tighter before releasing you and hopped back to Winston. You smiled at her excitement.  
   
“Mercy…” you called for her, “do you have any spots open for doctors under your lead?” You could tell she was shocked.  
   
“Do you want me to train you?” Mercy asked.  
   
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be -- being a blind soldier on the battlefield isn’t the most ideal situation.”  
   
Mercy hummed in realization before proposing, “Ah, I might be able to repair your eyes. With the leftover Overwatch tech, I can give you substitutes.”  
   
You bit your lip, thinking about the offer, “Nah, I’m fine for now. Give those to Veda for me.”  
   
“Veda? As in Vedaciego? Are you sure? I only have enough tech to repair the eyes of just one person. We need to wait months to get more supplies for it -- maybe even years. It is not the cheapest thing we have. Are you ok with that?” Mercy gave you a warning and you still shrugged it off.  
   
“If I’m gonna be a part of Overwatch, I’m going to help others in any way possible. Starting with Veda, the Omnic who saved my life with blind eyes. Imagine how many other lives he could save if he’s able to see what he’s doing. I owe him.”  
   
You heard Mercy hum under her breath in agreement, an obvious smile etched on her face. “Very well, I suppose I can squeeze in one more student under my wing.”  
   
Suddenly, a metallic arm grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to his chest. His gloved hand held your chin and dried lips crashed against your moist ones, feeling his tongue slip in and kiss you passionately. You took in his warmth and the taste of cigar lingered in your mouth as he separated. You couldn’t stop grinning. You loved it.  
   
You felt McCree embrace you closer, his head resting in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent. “Thank you, darlin’, for staying. I’m glad I found you after all this time.”  
   
You smiled, your grip on him getting tighter. You felt eyes on the both of you, but you didn’t care.  
   
“How cute!” Tracer chimed in, taking in the sight of the two of you. “I’m so glad you two decided to come back; we had so many memories.”  
   
Winston approached the both of you, forcing you to release from your hug due to his slightly intimidating presence, “Sorry for intruding, (Y/N). I need to show you something, follow me, please.” Winston requested and you followed, McCree’s fingers intertwined with yours. He stopped in front of a dome-shaped base (from what he told you), pressing multiple buttons before the doors opened.  
   
The scientist stepped in and you followed the sound of his footsteps. Suddenly, he stopped and you ended up bumping into him. “What is it?”  
   
“Since you are officially part of Overwatch, I want to introduce you to everyone.” he explained, and then you felt it. The presence of hundreds of people. No, not people -- heroes.  
   
Someone came up to the three of you, their feet made an odd sound every time they walked. “Hey, hey Winston! Is this (Y/N), I see?!”  
   
Lucio?!  
   
“Lucio! How’s it been?!” you laughed, feeling joy in your heart for once. There we more than just Lucio. More heroes have joined -- even Jack, whom everyone presumed dead. Overwatch was bigger and brighter than it was before, and you were proud of that.  
   
“(Y/N)...” McCree crashed your train of thought and you averted your eyes to him.  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“I’m happy that you decided to stay, and meeting everyone here really changed my view on things.” You raised a brow at him, confused. He chuckled before continuing, “It goes to show that our story ain't over yet, and I get to continue it with you by my side.” He squeezed your hand and gave you a peck on the cheek. Your face heated and you smiled for the last time tonight, rubbing small circles on his hand for comfort.  
   
All your eye could see now was hope and the chance to be reunited. Ever since Overwatch disbanded, the world went blank and crude. But now under Winston’s recall, heroes banded together once again -- new and old. You knew that it’s going to be rough, but you’re sure that Overwatch can bring peace once again, and you didn’t need vision to see that future.

"And I'm glad to continue it with you."  
 

**Eventuate- to issue, to come to a close, the end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is done c:


	6. Fun Facts

-The first 2 chapters I’ve written -- I did not have the game then. I did when I wrote Cut and Run but even then I wasn’t playing the game enough to learn all about the lore and interactions.   
   
-This had to be a short story because of other stories I’m writing, sorry if it felt rushed and robotic, I really don’t like my own writing and I felt as if I actually forgot how to write a fic because of how long it took me  
   
-I’ve been dealing with schoolwork, that’s why it took me a while to update, especially the last chapter because according to Google Docs, it was 12 pages long. I’ve never written that much for one chapter.  
   
-When McCree crashed through the window of a moving hypertrain, he called for his horse and it appeared so he can escape. Don’t worry he didn’t break like 7 bones.  
   
-Since I didn’t have the game, when I wrote “Brush”, I assumed any villain in the game were all from Talon. I decided this can just be considered a headcanon of mine, no big deal.  
   
-McCree killed Ana, a Talon operative. She’s not the Ana as in our favorite grandma sniper. This Ana was disguising herself as Ana from Overwatch in order to trick and recruit you into Talon. It failed.  
   
-Vedaciego’s name is combined of two words -- veda meaning wise and ciego meaning blind.  
   
-Although there wasn’t as much romance as I’d like to put in (due to me wanting to finish the story), you and McCree do end up together. Especially since you two have been friends since the start of Overwatch.  
   
-I do imagine McCree as romantic, but he’s more likely to shower you with love when you two are alone, and he keeps it minimal in public. That’s what I think of his character.  
   
-What happened to Hog? Why wasn’t he with Junkrat during the train heist or being treated by Veda? Police drones and government officials found them. Hog was caught, buying time for Junk to escape since his job was to protect him. He’s not dead though.  
   
-I wanted the reader to come back to Overwatch as a tough soldier, believe me, but then I remembered I made them blind and it just won’t cut it. As a character who’s developed from being reckless, I felt that it’s more appropriate to have them trying to save lives. That’s why the offer of repairing Reader’s eyes was still out there. You still have the chance to have vision -- but it’s up to you if you want to stick with the reader staying as a healer or become the soldier that they once were.  
   
-While you had no specific role, due to the fact I didn’t assign you a specific weapon -- the reader is more of an offense or defense type of character and not a tank or support. That’s how I wrote them, but then again it’s up to you.  
   
-I fixed the part in “Brush” where it mentioned Roadhog using chains to grab you. I didn’t know he actually hooked you. (Again, this was when I didn't have the game and I didn't know anything lol)  
   
-Honestly, I think Veda just took Junkrat under his wing and taught him to calm down. But obviously Junk didn’t like this and ran off one night, possibly looking for Hog.  
   
-McCree never planned to turn you in, he shared too many memories with you to even consider actually doing that.  
   
-Vedaciego is an OC I came up with, he does not actually exist to the canon Overwatch lore or anything. Also, he never speaks in contractions. He says "it is" and not "it's".  
How I came up with these names for the chapter titles? legendsofamerica.com/we-slang.html These are cowboy slangs.  
   
-Ahah I don’t like how this story came out but alas, time and skill are not on my side. If you guys leave questions or you’re confused, I’ll answer them. If it’s a common question everyone’s asking I’ll add it to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Afterclaps - Unexpected happenings after an event is supposed to be over.
> 
> "Justice ain't gonna dispense itself."
> 
> -Overwatch belongs to Blizzard  
> -This will be a short story, very short  
> -Don't flame me, I don't have Overwatch (yet?) and I don't know much of the story. Just war between robots and humans and Overwatch are considered the heroes until they disbanded and no one believed in them anymore. That is until Winston called everyone back according to the short films and honestly I don't know much else. But the most important detail is that all cars must fly.  
> -Story and plot belongs to me (Neige/Insanityespeon/QueenCandyness)


End file.
